


Life Or Death III or Bachelor Life: Sterek Edition

by Original_Cypher



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Human AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Original_Cypher/pseuds/Original_Cypher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Nope. I'm savoring. Go away.” Derek says, not even bothering to lower the novel he was reading before Stiles barreled inside his loft without knocking. His own fault, really. He should have locked. Which is moot, because Stiles has a key. Dammit.</i><br/>“Come on, you *know* you want to!” Stiles has a particular way of making a whine sound commanding. It's unfair.<br/>“I do not.” It's a little weird that Stiles doesn't even need to say it out loud. They both know why he's here. That's what you get when two people have been friends for years.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>¤¤¤</p>
<p>The one in which Derek finally lives alone and Stiles won't let it happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Or Death III or Bachelor Life: Sterek Edition

“Nope. I'm savoring. Go away.” Derek says, not even bothering to lower the novel he was reading before Stiles barreled inside his loft without knocking. His own fault, really. He should have locked. Which is moot, because Stiles has a key. Dammit.

“Come on, you _know_ you want to!” Stiles has a particular way of making a whine sound commanding. It's unfair.

“I do not.” It's a little weird that Stiles doesn't even need to say it out loud. They both know why he's here. That's what you get when two people have been friends for years.

“Yes. You do. You want to. You know it. And so do I.” Something swats at Derek's foot. “You're coming with me.”

“No.”

There's a little sniff. Stiles picked up his superior sneer from Lydia. It's annoying how those two can mimick a power-couple without even being together. “Derek. You know that's a word you can't say to me.”

He narrows his eyes and glares over his book. Stiles has a point. He doesn't need to know that, though. “Because you never seem to hear it,” he grouses “I stand by my... _No, Stiles_.”

Stiles beams at him, seeing his friend putting away Kathy Reich as a first sign of his victory. “ _Yes_ ,” he counters cheekily.

Derek sighs. “Stiles. I'm not seeing Life Or Death III with you. Not tonight.”

Stiles smiles fondly at him. The kind of condescending smile of someone who likes you even though you're wrong. “Yeah, you are.”

“No, I'm not.” And yet, he's already wondering where his shoes are. “Cora finally moved out three days ago. I have plans to enjoy the peace and quiet of my apartment being mine and only mine tonight.”

Stiles shakes his head. “You can do that tomorrow. Tonight, you're my wingman.”

Derek stares flatly. “To the movies.”

“You owe me.” Stiles glances at his nails. This could either be Lydia or Peter. He's not sure which is scarier. “I helped you carry Cor's bed and dresser down to the van and up a _spiral staircase._ ”

Derek locates a pair of sneakers out of the corner of his eye. “You're never gonna stop, are you?”

Stiles throws him the most devious look. The one that often has Derek wonder what the guy would look like during foreplay. – Shut up, it's seriously devilish, okay? It'd fit the bill perfectly. – It's instinctual now, after years of habit, to fear what comes out of the 26 year old's mouth next. “I wonder how you'll enjoy the peace and quiet of your Cora-free apartment with me singing at the top of my lungs from my car.”

Derek sits up in distress. “You wouldn't.”

“I'm thinking I'd sing Moon River. You know, I'd park under your window. It's fitting. And then I'd run through the whole Mamma Mia musical. My mom loved that stuff. I bet I don't even need to look up the lyrics.”

“You're evil.” That's common knowledge.

“You like that about me.” How much this is true isn't. Derek thinks.

“Please, at least tell me we're not actually going there for you to pick up a date.” Derek has seen Stiles chat people up and flirt. He finds it unbelievable. The guy can charm people out of their pants without noticing, but when he _tries_ , he gets flustered and painfully awkward. In most cases, Derek's role isn't one of a wingman so much as that of a savior.

“Huh?” Derek relaxes, apparently it was a joke. Stiles beams at him. “Dude, no way! We're there for you to mock ridiculous CGI werewolves and stupid lore and for me to enjoy tons and tons of fake blood.”

They _are_ ridiculous. “I minored in Folklore and Anthro, what do you expect?”

“Exactly that. And I know you love it. And you love bitching about it.” Stiles makes a sweeping gesture towards the door, as if bowing to let Derek go ahead of him. “Which makes it all the more fun for me.” Derek groans, but he pulls on his shoes and grabs his jacket. “We're taking your car. I'm driving. Come on, chop chop!”

 

 

@@@

“I was planning on savoring this evening.” Derek bemoans, standing in the unmoving line.

Stiles shifts and snatches some pop corn from the giant ball he shoved in Derek's arms minutes earlier. Really, it's safer there. It has better chances to make it, unspilled, until they get to their seats. “Gee, I can really feel the love.”

Derek makes a face at him **.** “You know what I mean. I was prepared for a lazy, quiet evening.”

“It's _a movie_.” Stiles pokes at his arm. “It'll be over by nine. If you want I can drive you back home and tuck you in right after, grandpa.”

“Hey.” Derek huffs. “I just turned thirty last month. Don't push it.” He catches his friend's eye with a barely-there smirk. “Kid.”

Stiles relaxes. “Seriously, though. I just wanted to hang out. I didn't want to ruin your important plans of doing nothing.”

“I'm here, aren't I?” A lot of nuances can be found in that single sentence depending on how one says it. What Stiles hears is that Derek is okay with being here, that he's huffing for the sake of argument.

“And it'll be a blast. Oh, I wonder what crazy insane-...”

“That's redundant.”

“..-thing they thought of this time.” He swats at Derek's arm for emphasis. “Remember that excavator sex scene? Because... what the hell?!”

“Have some popcorn, Stiles.”

 

 

@@@

“No, no, no...” Derek gestures emphatically with his seahorse shaped stirrer. “The worst? That thing toward the end with the window and the mirrors?”

Stiles falls back in his seat and laughs. “Oh yeah! Because you know, to heal a dying werewolf... shine the moonlight on them and wham... good as new.”

Derek snorts and sips at his milkshake. “Ridiculous.” He makes a face and raises jazz hands. “ _It's the Worm Moon, bitches!_ ”

Stiles makes a quiet sound of delight and digs up an actual piece of banana out of his drink. He chews on it with gusto before reacting. “It's the power of _love_ , Derek,” he croons mockingly. “See... Lanie, Laynie, whatever her name was... she loved him. So the moonlight was the catalyst to the magic. The magic of her love.”

Derek stares at him flatly. “You got that from the scene.”

“No. I'm trying to give it sense.”

Derek chuckles. “Don't bother. I think it's hopeless.”

Stiles smiles, then takes another sip. “Hey, how about that cave sex, huh? Hadn't had that one in a while.”

Derek snorts. “Pshh... Way too short,” he critiques. “You either put in a sex scene or you don't. That was...” he trails off and frowns. “I'm too used to HBO, don't mind me.” Stiles laughs. “I liked how they went inside the cave though. Admittedly, behind a waterfall is the cliché of all clichés but...”

“It looked pretty nice,” Stiles qualifies.

“Right?”

He stretches in his seat. “Maybe it wasn't a set. I think they shot in NZ. I'm sure they have views like that, there.”

“Could be.”

Stiles licks and sucks his straw clean before he tips the last drops of his shake onto his tongue. Derek looks around to see if innocent bystanders who aren't used to this level of pornography on a near daily basis have accidentally been exposed and are suffering sudden nosebleeds. Nope. Well, now. The drink is finished. Crisis averted. For now.

“Man, I could go for an actual burger and some fries.” Stiles proclaims.

Oh yeah. Because Stiles eating with his hands isn't another find specimen of mental health hazard.

 

 

@@@

“Thanks for letting me drive your precious baby.” Stiles says with a quiet smile. Derek can barely see it in the dim glow of the only working streetlight. Stiles deposits the keys in Derek's open palm and starts patting his own pockets. “I had fun.” The way he peers at Derek is suspicious. It's scrutinizing while trying to be subtle. “It was fun. Right?”

It hits him like a slap across the face, and rushes heat through his body. “You didn't need me tonight,” Derek says. It comes out soft as the realization settles in. “You didn't want to leave me alone.” The look flashing on Stiles' face as soon as Derek speaks confirms it.

Stiles gives a contrite smile. He dragged Derek out of his batcave before he devolved into nesting and kept him entertained all night long. Despite his knowledge. “Sorry.”

Of all the things he could have answered – denial, more teasing – Derek hadn't expected that one. “Thank you.” The words come out unbidden, and he steps closer.

Derek can feel Stiles shiver when he seals their lips together, and a wave of goosebumps spreads down his arms. “No, no, no.” Stiles mumbles, all the while clinging to Derek's jacket. “This isn't why I-...” Words die in his throat when Derek licks at his lips. He makes a dying noise and deepens the kiss, pressing himself to Derek's front. Stiles tastes like bananas, and popcorn, and salt. Then their tongues glide together and he gets to _him_. The way he truly tastes. The way he smells. He very nearly whines out loud when Stiles bites at his lip before pulling away, gasping quietly. “ _Fuck._ ”

“I know,” Derek hushes, petting at Stiles' hair clumsily. He knows Stiles did all of this because he is the stuff great friends are made of. Because he cares. Because he knows Derek better that he does himself, apparently. But this is more. This is better. This, they both want and can have. “Cherry on the top,” he whispers, and presses their mouthes together again.

Stiles pulls back to look at him, eyes roaming his face, catching on his lips, and digging deep into his soul. For a fraction of an instant, there is the twitch of a smile, then his eyes take over, amber twinkling. He brings a hand up to cup at Derek's cheek, drags a light touch of his thumb at the corner of his mouth, tracking it with his gaze. “Okay, then.”


End file.
